


Idleness.

by Mutantharpies



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gen, Roach is scared of Frogs, geralt really needs a therapist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mutantharpies/pseuds/Mutantharpies
Summary: Never leave a Witcher to his thoughts; he has too many on his plate already.
Relationships: geralt z rivii | geralt of rivia/silence
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Idleness.

It was a calm, uneventful morn; a rare kind of day for someone like a witcher. As he slowly sipped on his canteen, he only waited, as if expecting something unusual to jump at him, only to be greeted with the same as before; nothingness. 

Sweet, blissful, nothingness. 

And with that nothingness, came peace. Peace was equally elusive for a witcher. He thought about it as he took another slow sip; if anything, he was going to enjoy this fleeting moment for however long it may last. Roach stared at him; her nightshade eyes with conviction until he finally relented and handed her some oats as a treat. 

“Heh. Clever girl.” Roach nickered into his palm as she ate.

With a couple of light pats to the mare’s withers, Geralt took a seat on a felled log and breathed in the woody, damp scents of the forest beyond. After all, it wasn’t every day that he wasn’t currently at work. Though, that was because he wasn’t looking for jobs. Not yet, at least. Though the man rarely felt slothful- he couldn't afford such a luxury given his lifestyle- he simply felt... at ease. A slippery, elusive sentiment that only came during sex (how he feels afterwards is mixed), after at least eight hours of sleep (which was a rare occurance), or when the day is neutral enough for him to proceed without much caution. Best enjoy it while it lasted, then. 

Money wasn't an issue either; he had a moderate amount of coin; enough to buy food for him and Roach, and some supplies, should he be frugal enough. 

Judging by the sun, it was almost going to be noon, and the air was just a bit warmer than it was in the morning. Spring was yielding to summer’s influence, and berries were maturing into plump and sweet treats. Does and bucks could be seen darting off in the distance, which he watched laxly, sighing into the mist. He wasn’t much in the mood for hunting, nor was he particularly hungry. He wasn’t injured, nor was he discontent. 

Hm. This was a rare sort of day indeed.

Geralt let himself close his eyes if even for a moment, feeling the sun’s rays rest on his features, hands readily close to his sword in case this day was deceivingly perfect; after all, an ambush could be waiting right around the corner. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.

After all; the forest was but a cover for what lied within its twisting pathways. Filled with horrors, yet devilishly pleasant to reside in. In moments of silence like these, however, Geralt would think. Think in a place where his mind could truly settle, and simply allow himself the time of day. Oftentimes he thought aloud, with Roach to hear his every word. Other times he’d simply be the only one in his inner-conversation. He thought about the past most of all. Not too much on what he did, but what he felt he couldn’t do. What he should’ve done. 

The cruelest part about life is that he only realizes what he should’ve done after he can’t do something about it. And that’s if he ever comes to a conclusion.

A witcher always loses what they hold dear, but never forgets, despite how much they wish to. Witchers oft wished for many things when they were young. But soon, they all realized that none of those naive wishes would ever be granted. He, along with everyone else learned to accept it, after many painful nights and bedsheets soaked through with tears. And through all of these thoughts, a name comes out of the mist, plagued by regret. Plagued by guilt.

  
 _Renfri_. 

...

He allows himself this silence, cracking open his eyes. For in his heart are thousands of grievances from lifetimes past, forced to live a role he never chose to play.

  
The forest echoes dully, larks and sparrows flee from hawks that reside just above the forest’s canopy, shitting in the berries mid-panic. The water runs greener than before with mildew patches, the trees shudder coldly, and soon the sunlight is blocked off by leaves. Roach whinnied frantically upon seeing a frog land on her croup, bucking off the packed supplies she carried.

Geralt watches it all unfold and sighs. Of course.

“Come on Roach; it’s time to get some work done.”

**Author's Note:**

> A little short and sweet but hey, I kind of enjoy writing Geralt's character. LMK what you think.


End file.
